by Mackenzy Fox
“Gotta go down and sort some shit out, baby girl,” I say, dreading the pile of papers waiting for me. Now I know why people hate Mondays; it’s paperwork day.
I don’t usually eat until later, so I reach for my coffee, add some milk, and dump two heaped sugars in before taking a sip. Satisfied, I screw the lid on and head down the stairs. It’s too early for anyone else to be at work yet, which is good because I need time to concentrate. When the boys clatter around, it’s nearly impossible to get anything important done, so I utilize the quiet time while I can. Nothing starts around here till about 8 o’clock.
I flick the lights on in the workshop and then head up to the office. It makes me nervous just looking at the mountain of paperwork I have sitting there, not even in a neat orderly fashion at all. I run my hand over my head and take deep breaths. I pull out my phone and send Lucy a text, even though it’s early, because if I don’t get her in here to help me, I may just pass out. Nobody wants that on their hands.
I begin by switching the computer on, that I do know how to do. The lights blink and it makes several disgruntled noises as if I’ve woken it from a deep slumber. I know I need a new computer system that works and does everything for me, but just thinking about anything that advanced gives me an instant headache.
Most of my invoicing is done by hand in duplicate copy books, which is not the way Lucy thinks I should do it, but it’s all I know. The business is getting busier and constantly growing, and I know I need to upgrade, but I’m digging my heels in. I have months and months’ worth of paperwork that I’ve neglected, which translates to thousands and thousands of dollars that are owed to me that I can’t get on top of. Something drastic has to happen.
Admittedly, I’m not the easiest person in the universe to get along with, or probably to work for, but I don’t think I’m that bad. I only yell at the guys when they goof off. All the businesses of the club bring money in respectively and all members share a percentage of their profits. It’s how things continue to grow strong, and it’s how we all live so well. The club is acquiring more and more businesses, land, and investment properties, and with Hutch’s ol’ lady being in real estate, we know about all the bargains when they come around.
I sip my coffee and glance around the busy desk; I have no idea where to actually start. Perhaps the overflowing tray of papers is a good place. Smaller jobs, car servicing, and tires are paid up front with cash or on pick up, but larger businesses, companies, and corporate clients get billed and then pay by check or bank transfer. I don’t have a credit card machine, and I don’t have an overdue system in place except for another tray of piled up papers with a red stamp on them. Usually one phone call is all it takes to get money, but I barely get around to doing that.
I hold my head in my hands and then grab the first tray of overflowing papers and begin to sift through them. Any distraction would be a good one, but it’s so early that even my dog is still asleep. I manage to get through about three invoices using my unique one finger typing method, which takes forever, then I send them to the printer and glance at the clock. Damn that took me forty-five minutes, not very productive. I sit back in the chair and glance at my phone on the desk as it buzzes. It’s Lucy. Thank God.
Lucy: Why have you not hired somebody yet?
No salutation or good morning or anything, typical Lucy, straight to the point.
Me: Cuz apparently I suck.
My phone beeps an instant reply.
Lucy: So, you need my help, huh? What’s in it for me?
Typical woman; can’t just come help me out of the goodness of her heart, oh no.
Me: My continued reassurance of security
I could almost hear her laughing from across town.
Lucy: Ha! I get that anyway!
I think for a moment, knowing this is gonna cost me.
Me: Remember that concert you wanted to go to?
Bribery is the best way to get to Lucy; I learned this a very long time ago.
She’s typing as I sit back and wait.
Lucy: What concert?
I pull the top drawer open and take out the envelope with the tickets in it for Carrie Underwood. I got them a while back knowing they’d come in handy at some point in time. I’d planned on giving them to Lily for her birthday but whatever. I take a photo and send it to her.
Me: There’s four tickets. Take your girlfriends.
She’s typing back.
Lucy: OMFG!! Are you kidding me right now? I don’t know how you pull this shit off, Steel, seriously. I’d be waiting until dooms day for Rubble to get me tickets to anything
Me: So that’s a yes?
Lucy: Wait. How do I know that you really have those in your possession?
I sigh loudly.
Me: What? You want proof?
She sends back a smiley face with a thumbs up.
Fuckin’ Lucy. I grab the tickets, hold them next to my head, grimace like I’m really pissed off, take the selfie, and press send.
Me: Happy?
Lucy: I love you. When do you want me?
I smile broadly. Lucy is like a sister to me. I’ve known her that long. She takes no shit from anybody, but she’s a good ol’ lady. I know she has Rubble by the shorts, but she acts the part of the good wife in public. Behind closed doors I have no doubt who wears the pants. It makes me smile.
Me: ‘Bout 8?
Lucy: K. See u then.
Me: Roger that. Bring food.
I just saved myself a long, horrible day, even though technically it cost me a bomb. Feeling pleased with myself, I finish my coffee with a sigh of relief.
*
I let Lucy chastise me for most of the morning over my lack of bookkeeping skills, and I let her get away with it only because I need her and don’t want her to go. She had the good sense to bring a bag of blueberry muffins with her. I like a woman who listens.
I don’t hover around while she rapidly gets through some of the paperwork, best to leave the woman be. I don’t work on the tools every day, I have guys to do that, I only help when things get really busy or there’s a particular job that needs my expertise. Although I’ve served in the military, mechanics has been my trade since I left school as an apprentice; it’s what I always go back to.
My restoration shed is the separate locked garage next to the workshop with a security alarm. That's where I work on custom bikes and cars when given the opportunity. Like the Fat Boy, which is my own project, I get to it when I can. I have no pressing jobs at the moment, but occasionally a good pay dirt will come in and I’ll throw myself and a couple of my guys into it. My portfolio is legendary; however, I have neither the time nor the energy to concentrate on promoting that side of the business. Maybe in time, when I get on top of things here and have someone reliable to man the phones and do office shit. I certainly have no customer rapport, so I don’t go anywhere near the damn phone.
About halfway through the morning, Hutch rings my cell. About time, he’s been ignoring me all weekend.
“Maybe I should send Gunner in,” he says immediately, an exasperated tone in his voice. That irritates me more than it should; jealousy isn’t a trait I usually possess, but knowing she’s no pushover helps with my annoyance. She’s also so fucking hot that it’s off the charts. I’ve spent all weekend trying to forget her blue-green eyes and pouty little mouth, and I admit I may have jerked off last night imagining that mouth and her hands on me.
If you were mine, I’d find more productive and interesting things to do with your smart mouth?…Oh brother, what was I thinking? I can’t even blame the booze for that comment.
“Perhaps a less chilly offer could sway her,” I suggest. “It was pretty lowball, even for us. You didn’t really expect her to actually take it. I told you she wasn’t stupid.” I know deep down I don’t want Gunner going near her. If anybody is going to show her a good time between the sheets, I want it to be me. I wrestle with that illicit thought, not for the first time today, and wait for his resp
onse.
“You have any other bright suggestions?” He barks, clearly not liking that one.
“Yes. We wait it out, let her come to us. She probably needs the dough, so I’m sure it won’t be long before she’s rethinking her options. Chicks like to mull things over, you know what they’re like, plus it’s like you said, worst case scenario the bank will foreclose.”
He grunts. “She probably just needs a good lay to loosen her up a bit. I wouldn’t say Gunner’s the best, but he’s got the goods and could charm honey from a bee... unless you’d like to volunteer.”
I just about spit my coffee out. I’m not exactly known to be the club member with the most notches on his belt, and I’m certainly not known for my subtlety or charm, but there are some healthy rumors about my size and stamina. That I don’t mind, but this? I know from Saturday night’s conversation that she isn’t gonna be persuaded by pillow talk. Girls like her never are; she’s too smart.
“I don’t think it will come to that, Prez,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, trying to keep my temper in check and my voice at a normal octave.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling like this every time there’s a mention of sending Gunner in. Probably because I know she won’t look twice at me now. I’d backed her up against the wall after making her furious enough to hurl fireballs from her eyes. I shake my head at the memory, at her big eyes looking up at me like that.
“Keep Gunner away from her. She just needs to cool off. I’ll deal with this.”
I don’t exactly know what my plan of attack is, but unless I come up with the goods soon, he’ll send his best man in. Something about the challenge makes me want to sit back and see what would happen, if she’d actually fall for someone like Gunner, if even for the night. Anyway, just because she may be up for a bit of a good time for a night did not mean she’d decide to give her assets away at cost price and forget her money troubles, something tells me that she has a lot more gumption than that.
I push the thought out of my head. I don’t like drama, which is why I live with a dog and not a freaking woman. I was married briefly a long time ago, but that fizzled out quickly, so instead of settling down I instead threw myself into my business and the M.C.
Chicks were trouble; I will do well to remember that. I like simple. No ties, no strings, and besides there is no shortage of willing pussy at Church to be had. Even if things do get monotonous at least nobody has me by the balls.
Maybe I just need a quick hard and fast lay myself. Yes. That’s all I need, then perhaps I will get Sienna out of my thoughts once and for all. It feels futile. She doesn’t like me, not like the girls at Church do, and that only appeals to me all the more….. The way she sashayed towards me when I leaned on the bar, those hips had some moves, her tits looked fantastic in that top that she had on with a sexy lace black bra, it got me instantly hard. I’d love to have those beautiful things in my face all night, sucking her, making her moan….shit.
The problem being now if I am to try and get back in her good graces that may prove to be difficult. I’m not exactly known for my verbose and friendly banter, funnily enough.
I think Hutch and the crew are kind of forgetting I’m used to dealing with bikers and man to man problems, not whiney little girls who were hard to control, I’ve got enough of that with my little sister. Not that I have any trouble controlling women, ones that want to be controlled that is, ones that knew how it works.
When it came to Sienna; if looks could kill I’d be dead about fifteen times over.
Hutch barks something else incoherent at me and hangs up. I tuned out when he started yelling.
It seems I’m about to have me one hell of another day, rubbing my temples I drop the phone onto the desk and go hunt for more muffins. I’ll go to the gym soon to work off some frustration and in the meantime work out a plan of attack, I get my best ideas when lifting weights and working out.
Yeah, she’s definitely a little pain in the ass, one I need to forget.
I just wish to god I could get her out of my head.
6
Sienna
I don’t sleep well after my spat with Steel. Truth be told I’m furious. While admittedly he is super-hot and smelled like a brut advert, that’s certainly no excuse for his ‘I’m just the messenger,’ act and to man-handle me by back me up against a wall. On the other hand; I really have no idea or excuse as to why I can’t stop thinking about him and it’s making me crazy.
I have Monday through Wednesday off, as those are the quiet nights at the Stone Crow, so I decide to do something nice for myself and the first port of call is a hot yoga class. It’s just what I need to get my mind clear and off dirty bikers and all the other crap going on in my life.
I own a bikers’ clubhouse. I shudder. I mean, how more bizarre and surreal could my life actually get? And now I’m warring with the club and everyone in it, maybe I do have a death wish after all.
Breathe Sienna, just breathe.
I feel good after the class, all my annoyance and pent up rage seems to have dissipated.
I’m on such a high that I decide then and there I’m going to go to the nearest department store, wherever that is, to buy myself some new linen and a comfy set of pillows, I’m fearless like that and new sheets always makes me feel better.
I swing my gym bag over my shoulder and sling my sweat towel around my neck, as I pass by the clear window that looks into the gym I come to an abrupt halt as my eyes lock with a frowning, grey-green eyed monster using one of the arm weight machines.
Goddamn it. It’s him. I know Bracken Ridge is small, but this is ridiculous.
I do not want to run into him today, or ever, thank you very much.
Steel’s half-way through pulling some very heavy weights down in front of him when our eyes lock. He stops midway, his biceps bulge so huge that I’m sure they’re about to explode, I’ve never seen muscles that big.
He’s wearing a black Metallica singlet and it’s hanging off his body, leaving little to the imagination, in fact one would argue why you’d even wear it. He’s completely covered in tatt’s too, they’re everywhere. I don’t gawk because of his glorious, sweaty, muscled body, no, no, I gawk because I’ve never seen anything so damn hot in my life.
A thrill runs through me and its then I realize I’ve stopped walking and I’m now staring, clutching onto my water bottle and yoga mat for dear life.
I watch as his eyes travel down my body lazily, then when he’s finished ravishing me, he raises an eyebrow as if to question what the hell I’m staring at.
Move your feet Sienna, get out of there.
I practically sprint out to the parking lot. Only when I’m safely inside my car with the doors locked I take a few calming breaths then curse myself. He saw me gawking at him, great, that’s all I need, something else to use against me. His body is so ridiculous that I can’t imagine anyone not being moved by such a majestic sight, his ink is almost too much to take in, his tattoos are all black and basically cover every spare inch of his skin. I grasp the steering wheel and internally slap myself. I need to get a grip.
My phone rings suddenly making me jump.
It’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello,” I answer rubbing my temple with my free hand.
“Hello, is this Sienna Morgan?” I don’t recognize the caller.
“Yes,” I reply.
“It’s Kirsty from Bracken Ridge real estate.”
Oh, it’s the lady I’ve been dealing with about the sale of Max’s house, what a relief, she said she’d call me this week and touch base with an appraisal, we’ve been corresponding via email.
“Oh, hi Kirsty, thanks for calling.”
“Is now a good time?”
“Yes, sure now’s perfect,” I reply, welcoming the distraction.
“I’ve been going over the numbers for the estate and I think that what we discussed via email is a good starting price, it has a large l
ot and while the property needs a lot of work it’s still got good bones, a renovators dream and it has that large garage at the back and is fully fenced.”
Ah yes, the garage I have to clean out by the weekend, don’t remind me.
“That’s wonderful.” Maybe my luck is starting to change?
“If you’re happy to drop in later today or tomorrow to sign the paperwork, I can get the photographers out there this week once you give me the all clear and it can be listed as early as the weekend.” My heart soars at her words.
What a relief! This is great news.
“That sounds perfect, I’m going out there tomorrow with the removalists to get rid of all the furniture and do some cleaning, so I can drop by before that.”
“Excellent,” she replies brightly.
“Thank you, Kirsty I really appreciate this, it’s a load off my mind.”
She’s been a godsend, I’ve literally not had to do anything.
“Well now, you’re welcome,” she says, kindly. “And I hope this isn’t a conflict of interest, I can assure you that whatever happens with the club it will not affect our working relationship.”
I frown.
What is she talking about? I suddenly have a very bad feeling in my gut, and this was all going so well….
“Umm, I’m sorry Kirsty I’m not following.” My heart rate picks up about seven hundred notches.
“Well it’s a small town and being Hutch’s wife things get around.”
My eyes go wide, and I literally hold my breath. Is she freaking kidding me right now? Hutch’s wife?
I’ve inadvertently hired that awful man’s old freaking lady?
Not for the first time I’m starting to question what I did in my former life to deserve this.
“Sorry, I’m not sure I heard you right, you’re Hutch’s wife?” I try out the words like they’re not poison spluttering from my mouth.